


M-Mr. Stark? I-I Don't Feel So Good...

by emrys_knight_writer



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Whump, hurt comfort, spiderman whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emrys_knight_writer/pseuds/emrys_knight_writer
Summary: “M-Mr. Stark? I-I don’t feel so good…” Tony’s heart dropped to the ground at the sound of those words. Those cursed words. He turned to see Peter, slowly walking into the common room, hugging himself, arms wrapped around his stomach.





	M-Mr. Stark? I-I Don't Feel So Good...

**Author's Note:**

> I referenced a Tumblr post in this. I don't claim ownership of the joke. (prompt fill fic)

“M-Mr. Stark? I-I don’t feel so good…” Tony’s heart dropped to the ground at the sound of those words. Those cursed words. He turned to see Peter, slowly walking into the common room, hugging himself, arms wrapped around his stomach.

“Hey, kid. What’s going on?” Tony helped Peter get to the couch, to lay down. He knelt in front of the spider, rubbing a hand on his shoulder.

“I dunno. I think I got a stomach bug or something,” Peter’s body threatened to make the contents of his stomach known.

“Don’t you mean… stomach… arachnid?”

“Wilson, I swear if that’s you, I’m gonna kick your ass,” Tony looked straight ahead, giving a heavy sigh.

“You promise?”

Tony looked up at the ceiling to see the man in the big red condom. “Dammit, Wade!”

“I’m here for moral support, good sir. This is our third Spider-Man. The turnover scares the fuck outta me sometimes. He could die. Maybe disappear into a cloud of dust,” Wade dropped from his perch on the rafters. “I’ll go, I just gotta get my chimi-chimi-chang-changa out the microwave.” Wade danced over to the kitchenette, opening the door to the microwave. He grabbed the food, sticking it into his gunless gun holster. He walked over to the window of the compound common room, opening it. “Alrighty, I’m leaving. Spidey, catch me!” Wade lept out of the opening before a loud thud was heard. It had been obvious he’d hit the pavement. “What the shit, Parker?!”

Tony sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Friday, get Dr. Strange in here.”

“My apologies, Mr. Stark, Dr. Strange is unavailable at the moment. Dr. Banner is on his way.”

“Tony…” Peter whined. “Oh-”

“Oh?”

“I think-” Peter’s eyes widened, almost telepathically sending a signal to Tony, letting him know what he was about to do. The older Avenger quickly ran over to grab the trash can out from one of the side tables beside the couch Peter lay on. He handed it to a now puking young Avenger. He rubbed Peter’s back, over his scapulas, attempting to calm him.

“That doesn’t look so good,” Bruce quickly strolled in with an IV pole, a bag already hung on. When he got to the couch, he took Peter’s free arm that hadn’t a hold on the trash bin, pressing the needle into the visible vein in his cubital fossa. “This should keep him hydrated.”

When Peter was confident he hadn’t had anything left, he set the trash can down, laying back on the couch’s plush cushions. “I wanna go to my room.”

“Why don’t we go to the med bay, since we’re not sure what this is, yet?” Bruce outstretched a hand towards the teenager before getting it slapped away.

“Peter,” Tony’s voice was stern, yet there was no anger in it.

“I wanna go to my room,” Peter insisted.

“I can’t run tests in your room to see what’s wrong with you, buddy. We need to go to the med bay,” Bruce tried once more, this time grabbing for Peter’s torso to pick him up. Peter lept up off the couch, taking the IV needle out, making Bruce cringe.

“I’m not going to the med bay!” Peter jumped up to stick to the ceiling, frustrating the Iron Man and his, sometimes, green colleague.

“Come on, kid, you’re sick and we need to run tests so you can get better,” Tony ran to be underneath the teen. “You’re not in your right mind.”

“No,” Peter’s tone was like a frustrated toddler. He started to crawl towards the Avengers’ rooms. “Bucky!”

“Peter, come back!” The older two ran after him. Bucky walked out of his room, finishing putting his shirt on.

“What’s goin’ on?” Bucky looked up at the crawling spider on the ceiling. He spoke under his breath. “I can’t believe this shit is normal.”

“Yo! Bucky!” Peter looked down to the White Wolf, wide eyes, and a wide smile. It… it was kinda terrifying to look at if Bucky was honest.

“Hey, kid. What uh… what are you doing up there?”

“I don’t wanna go to the med bay.” Peter continued to crawl away, towards the large window wall at the end of the hall.

“O-okay,” Bucky crossed his arms, watching him go.

“Peter, no!” Bruce and Tony ran past the oldest Avenger, making the ex-Winter Soldier sigh and go back into his room.

“Catch me if you can!” Peter crawled faster, not paying close enough attention to where he was going, hitting an indent in the ceiling, making him lose grip and fall down the stairs under the window wall. There was a loud crack and a blood-curdling scream. The noises made Tony’s heart drop and bring his breathing to a level that made Bruce squirm.

“Peter!” Tony ran down the stairs as fast as he could, freezing when he saw the sight of the child, rocking back and forth, holding his left leg. Peter cried out in pain, tears streaming down his face.

“It hurts!”

“Well, yeah, it hurts! You broke your leg, homeslice.”

“Wade, I’m going to have Natasha shoot you,” Tony quickly ran up to kneel next to his kid.

“Such hostility. I think it comes from your daddy issues,” Wade fell down the stairs, as well, getting up while shaking his dislocated wrist. “This is gonna take hours to heal! Fuck! Make your stairs safer to fall down you iron bitch!”

“Let’s get Peter to the med bay, I need to set and cast this. I’ve also got pain meds that I’ve been working on that should help even with his metabolism,” Bruce tapped Tony’s shoulder. Tony picked Peter up, bringing him into a bridal carry. He let the teen’s head rest against his shoulder while he kept a grip on his broken leg, crying through the pain.

“It hurts, Mr. Stark,” Peter whimpered. Tony rubbed his hand over Peter’s ribs.

“I know, kid. You’re okay. It’s not gonna hurt much longer.”

:::::

Peter slowly awoke to see Bucky and Steve sitting on a couch they pulled up to his bed, drawing on his cast. The two had drawn a line just below Peter’s knee, giving the two their own side. Steve’s side was a beautifully drawn picture of every Avenger hanging out with him. On Bucky’s side was a large portrait of… Rocket? Alrighty then…

“Hey, he’s up,” Bucky kept his eyes on his project, finishing up the bunny’s semi-automatic gun in his paws.

“Hey, kid. Tony went to grab your favorite sandwich from your favorite place on that street corner. He should be back any time, now,” Steve looked into Peter’s eyes.

“He’s getting twenty of them. Can’t believe you eat as much as we do. Still can’t believe any of this shit is normal,” Bucky, under his breath. The other two laughed at the comments.

“Hey, you’re awake! All better?” Tony came in with T’Challa and a few Wakandan soldiers with large bags of sandwiches.

“My leg needs time but I don’t feel sick anymore.”

“Great,” Tony sat in the recliner next to Peter’s bed, setting all twenty of his sandwiches on the bed. “I hope this is enough.”

“I normally only get one because it looks weird if I get more, but yeah, it’s enough. Thanks, Mr.-” Tony cleared his throat. “Tony.”

“He gets to call you Tony, but I don’t?” Bucky looked up at Stark.

“When you are like a son to him, maybe you will.” Okoye pointed out. T’Challa couldn’t help but smirk at her comment.

“I am happy to hear you are feeling better. Shuri has been asking about you and I’m quite happy to let her know she can stop bothering me. She can come see you as soon as you would like,” T’Challa took his sandwich from Tony’s bag.

“That sounds great, your highness.” Peter, through a mouth stuffed with food.

“Peter, manners,” Tony backhanded the kid’s shoulder.

“It is quite alright. And you can just call me T’Challa. You have earned the right.”

“Dammit,” Bucky pouted.

“Okay, fine. You too, Mr. Barnes.”

“Thanks, man. I’ll return the courtesy. Call me Bucky if you want.”

“James.” Okoye chimed in. T’Challa nearly let out a laugh.

“Or that. You’re a king, do what you want,” Bucky smiled.

Everyone laughed. Peter looked around the room, smiling when it finally hit him what he’d had. He had everything anyone could ever ask for and more.


End file.
